


When in Rome

by LadyNightsong



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, also continuities are paints and i love mixing colors when I feel like it, exploration in culture shock and discovering earth (and vice versa!!), more characters to be added as necessary, shenanigans abound?? if i can be creative, this was really just an idea that up and bit me and didn't let go until i wrote stuff, this will be updated as inspiration strikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNightsong/pseuds/LadyNightsong
Summary: When the 'Bots wake up, for all practical purposes, they've accidentally time traveled thousands of years into the future, and are unfathomable distances from anything that was once familiar.Discovering the planet they stumbled upon and all that comes with such a thing- encountering its natives and oddities, developing relationships with them, coming to understand the way living works on this planet of organic transience-  will be an adventure, to say the least.





	1. rain

**what a glorious feelin' / i'm happy again**

_rain_

The acid rains of Cybertron, unrelenting and corrosive, were a source of legitimate danger for anyone caught in their downpour. There, the sky would yellow angrily, and the thunderous deluge threatened the plating and spark of any mech or femme who hadn’t found cover.  
  
They weren’t on Cybertron anymore, though. A few days ago, they’d crashed and found themselves on a new planet- Earth. They were so new here that Teletraan was still downloading and integrating the massive amounts of information on their global online network. Without Teletraan or a meteorologist, they’d been caught off guard, scrambling fearfully into the remains of the Ark when the skies darkened and the pressure dropped.  
  
But this benign, even gentle, phenomenon was... not what they’d expected.  
  
Here, the sky was blanketed with steel-grey clouds, and the gentle precipitation fell in a pleasant wash of sound.  
  
Optimus watched in quiet wonder and surprise as the waves of rain fell over the landscape. There was no sizzling, no sound of it eating at the metal of their ship; just a soft pitter-patter as curtains of it fell and drops beaded against broken panes of glass. “It’s not acid?” He asked the quiet assembly. Perceptor moved forward to stand beside him, scanners washing over the rain. “It’s water,” he declared, surprise coloring his voice. So this planet didn’t have the acid rains that plagued theirs. Jazz sidled forward, reaching out a servo to feel the rain on his armor. He laughed, letting the water run down his plating before stepping completely into the rain, visor shining brightly as he enjoyed the new, rhythmic feeling. Bluestreak followed, squeaking in shock when the rain hit his doorwings before belatedly turning down their sensitivity, to the quiet amusement of Prowl and decidedly loud amusement of Smokescreen and the twins. Optimus felt his faceplates quirk upwards in a smile, watching their antics. Soon, all of his Autobots were laughing and enjoying the rain, and, for the first time, experiencing the unique sensation of it running down their plating. This was nothing they could have done on Cybertron, where the rain painfully melted away whatever part of you it touched.  
  
So this was different; this was new. From the way he saw his mechs slowly unwinding- their smiles becoming even just a little more real in this moment, and their posture losing that stressed tightness, and their optics not clouded with the ramifications of their long stasis and remories of their long voyage- Optimus could only hope that the discovery of this planet’s water-rain would be an omen for the future. One filled with positive discovery, though he wasn’t naive enough to believe it would all be positive- but a future where they could begin to move forward; start the process of learning to rebuild.

Primus below knew they would need that once this forsaken war was over with.

 

* * *

 

(It wasn’t untill much later that he would learn of the archetypes humans associated with water; that of rejuvination and rebirth, and of the miracle of life. It would strike him as fitting, and nostalgically poignant, that one of their first experiences with the quirks of what would come to be their new home would be enjoying the rain. He wasn’t sure they were worthy of, or ready for, rebirth, but humans and their nature of constant change and hope had rubbed of on him- maybe more than he’d thought.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this came to me when we had looots of rainy mornings in which I had to wait for my bus. something about it- the sound of the rain, or chill in the air, seemed really poetic to me (original, I know) but then I started thinking about the acid rains on Cybertron and how everyone must have reacted to their first rain here on Earth and lo and behold this happened. fair warning that it isn't beta'd, just edited by me, and I hope it doesn't come across as too pedantic. It's short, yeah, but i'm pretty happy with it.
> 
> also, for the record, I did start to imagine how the 'Cons would have reacted... but I don't believe i'm the best person for that. there are others out there who really highly value and love and relate to them, but that's just not me. I felt like I could try to do the "Bots justice, though (if I could avoid idolizing them). Here's a toast to the hope that I succeeded! And to anyone who wants to delve into the experiences on the other side of the coin!


	2. traffic laws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this idea was thrown out there in a discussion, and I couldn't not write it, so just.. bear with me if it doesn't quite seem to fit into the rest of the fic? thanks much, because *grabby hands* give me all that beautiful friendship between bots and their human friends please and thanks

**on being a Guardian**

_traffic laws_ _ & human charges_

Scattered leaves, fallen with the change in season, littered the grass, but the yellow sports car paid them no mind as he pulled into the local school’s pick-up. Patiently he waited for the familiar sight of unruly brown hair and square glasses. When Bumblebee opened his passenger side door for Raf, Bee instantly picked up on the way Raf flopped into his seat, and the lackluster smile he shot the dashboard.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Bee asked. Raf just heaved a sigh, slouching into the seat even further.

“It’s nothing, Bee. Don’t worry,” Raf assured, but Bee remained unconvinced. He turned his seat warmers on, a facsimile of human warmth, trying again.

 _“Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, yeah? It isn’t a bother.”_ At this, Raf just gave a small smile, nodding and laying a hand on the dashboard.

“It’s just...”

  
Bee waited patiently for his young charge to find the words to continue.

  
“In a house with five siblings, things can get chaotic and messy and frustrating. I know mom and dad try, and I appreciate that, but...” Bee warbled understandingly.

 _“With all that activity, it seems like it would be easy to fall through the cracks.”_ Raf just nodded.

“I had been looking forward to learning to drive for a while, because it kinda represents freedom, y’know? And I’m finally old enough, but... with so many kids, finances are tight. I can’t do the school, because it’s hundreds of dollars, and parent-taught driver’s ed is so much cheaper but neither of my parents have time.” Had Bee been in bipedal mode, his optics would have widened understandingly, but as it was all he could do to express his empathy was warble again. Raf knee what he meant, though- he always had- and just patted the dashboard. “Thanks, Bee. I’ll take the course and get my license eventually. Just maybe not as soon as I want to.” Bee made his equivalent of a nod, and let the topic drop, but his processors were whirring, and he made a mental note to look something up later...

* * *

 _“Please, Ratch! It’s for a really good cause!”_ The medic just huffed, not even looking up from his monitors.

“Arcee needs a holoform because she’s a two-wheeler, Bumblebee. You don’t. That aside, do you honestly think I would do something like this when you haven’t even told me the reason?” Saying that, he finally turned away from the monitors, crossing his arms over his chestplates and fixing Bumblebee with a withering stare. Bee wilted under it.

 _“It’s for Raf. He really wants to learn to drive, but can’t yet... and I really wanna help him! I could teach him, I just need a holoform so it can be legal!”_ Ratchet cycled his optics for a second in surprise before they narrowed.

“Have you even researched their laws to know what you’d need to do?”

 _“It’s not that much,”_ Bee protested. _“It’s Raf’s job to learn everything, and the course takes care of that online. I’d just be involved with the practice time. You know we can get me a license, easy.”_ Ratchet bristled at his words.

“You’d let him... drive you?” Bee just crossed his arms.

 _“Oh, come on. I trust him._ You _trust him. Yes. That’s the least important part of this conversation right now.”_ Ratchet sighed, conceding that point, knowing Bee was right. _“Ratch, he’s got five siblings to occupy his parent’s time, so they can’t do this, and said the alternative was hundreds of dollars. And he’d be safer in my cab than in any human car, you know that. I’m only asking for a holoform. So... please?”_ He said it as earnest and pleading as he could, and he could see Ratchet melting.

“Bumblebee...” A heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. But get out of my space so I can finish what I’m doing and find you a spare holoform generator.” Bee chirped happily, dancing out of his ‘medbay’ and over to the larger bank of monitors. A few clicks and a hack of government databases later- thank you, SpecOps training- and he had the 3D printing schematics of a Nevada driver’s license, just waiting for a picture of his holoform. Bee couldn’t help but grin. _Raf’s gonna love this._  
  
As it turned out, getting Optimus’ approval and an altercation with the Cons put his plan on hold for a week, but soon Bee had that license printed and was ready to enroll Raf in the driver’s ed course. He wasn’t quite sure how he planned to surprise Raf with it, but, well, he’d think of something. As they entered the base, Bee paused to let Raf our to join Jack and Miko, as per usual.  
  
He had to resist the urge to grin as he transformed and walked over to the monitors, pulling up the website for a parent-taught driver’s ed school, clicking the “Enroll Now!” button and filling out Raf’s info (after delving into the site’s internals to make sure it all was safe, of course.)

 _“Hey, Raf, c’mere,”_ he called over, and the boy made his way over to Bee, adjusting his glasses as he peered at the screen.

“Bee?”

 _“Hold this for me, will ya?”_ He didn’t give Raf any time to ask questions, pulling his new license out of subspace to toss it at Raf, who caught it automatically before thinking to examine it.

“What-?” This time, he took a good look at the screen, and at the grin stretching widely across Bee’s faceplates, before gasping. “No way!” He laughed. “Are you serious? Thank you so, so much!” He beamed widely, and Bee mirrored his joy, glad that he could do this for his young friend. “But how did you-? Who is this?” Raf asked, gesturing to the picture. Bee just transformed, activating his holoform and making it exit the cab and wave at Raf.

 _“It’s called a holoform,”_ he explained. “ _Ratchet was nice enough to install it for me._ ”

“Oh, so that’s why I’m suddenly not the only ‘Bot with a driver around here.” Arcee mused, turning to explain to Jack at his confused question. Bee’s holoform vanished, though his door remained open.

 _“Guess the best place to start would be a long, straight road in the middle of nowhere,_ ” he said lightly. Raf laughed in disbelief and excitement as he scrambled down to join his friend. It was the most joyous, carefree sound- and with a pang in his spark, Bee realized just how long it had been since a companion of his had laughed like that. He could see Ratchet’s posture relaxing as he replied to Raf’s hurried ‘thanks so much!’ and his optics softening as he took in the moment, and even Optimus’ small smile.  
  
Yeah, this is why they defend humans and their planet. It had been too long since a Cybertronian had enjoyed that kind of feeling. Funny how their moments of levity always seemed to be tied to Earth, but hey, maybe that’s why they ended up here all those years ago.  
  
It would be nice if Primus was still looking after them like that.

But there was driving to be done, and the feeling of his engine and wheel doing unexpected things pulled him out of his musings. Raf wasn’t a natural- he had a feeling his brake pads would be sore tomorrow, was that even possible?- but the kid was smart, and soon enough the stops and starts he practiced weren’t jarring Bee’s shocks. ( _Thank Primus. What had he gotten himself into...?_ ) Raf also quickly learned that Bee’s Cybertronian engine could do zero to sixty unnaturally fast compared to the actual human car he’d scanned, but as Raf didn’t push it, Bee was pretty sure he didn’t have to watch for Raf trying to get him to drag race (though he’d have to keep an optic on Smokescreen just in case.) He could see that Raf was feeling fairly comfortable- and, really, Jasper was the smallest town imaginable- so after a while he ventured to chat with his human driver. Raf, used to working across three monitors simultaneously while also talking on the phone, had no issues with that, and it was the best conversation they’d had in a while, with time to just be together. Raf was happy to find that he actually enjoyed driving, and practicing with Bee was unique- he imagined nobody else learned to drive with their car giving a running commentary and offering advice.  
  
Raf told his parents that he’d gotten a scholarship to enroll in the school and had taken care of it, and they never looked back, so this continued for weeks; Raf made quick work of the online modules and quizzes, and the two quickly racked up all the practice hours Nevada required.  
  
Raf would never forget his first experience on a highway with Bee, though. He had gone to merge right to exit, not noticing the motorcycle in his blind spot, and Bee had been taking a moment to choose a radio station.  
  
It had almost been bad.  
  
But Bee had noticed, his sensors not having a blind spot like Raf in the driver’s seat. Nobody had been hurt, and the motorcyclist probably hadn’t even realized what Raf had almost done, but it had shook him up badly. So much so that he refused to get behind the wheel until Bee- along with Jack and Miko, and Bee thought Ratchet may have even gotten involved- convinced him not to abandon his progress because of an (unfortunately) common, ultimately human mistake.    
  
So they returned to the road, and Raf slowly but surely regained his confidence, and Bee was more proud than ever of his charge for overcoming his fear. That was a tough skill for anyone- human or Cybertronian- to learn. But learn Raf did, cracking jokes while he practiced parallel parking and exchanging affectionate ribbing when he stopped a _liiiiiitle_ to close to the car ahead for Bee’s comfort.  
  
And when he made a perfect 100 on the driver’s test, and had to field the proctor’s incredulous questions, he took it in good faith- after all, he couldn’t exactly say his car had taught him to drive.  
  
And really, that wouldn’t even be the truth, Raf mused, waving and grinning broadly at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed young adult lounging on a black and yellow sports car in the DMV parking lot. Bumblebee had never been and never would be his car.

  
No, Bumblebee had taught him and protected him, even from himself. Bumblebee was his _guardian_.


	3. aging

**an** **d death approached me as an old friend / and I greeted him with a smile on my face**

_aging_

Ratchet supposed that it was a function of the gradual nature of aging and fact that he’d just... always been there, seeing them every day.  
  
But whatever the cause, one unremarkable morning in early March, Ratchet looked at Raf- who was currently sat in a chair by the monitors, answering a question posed by an agent- and realized just how _old_ the human had become.  
  
His face had lost its roundness, and wrinkles were beginning to form. (Ratchet could only be glad that they were benign crinkles at the corner of his eyes, evidence of his brightness and laughter. That was much more fitting of someone like him, someone who had walked different worlds and learned aliens’ languages and helped save his planet from its own core.) His hair, which had once stuck straight up, was the smallest bit thinner and in a hairstyle that seemed more professional. It was still Raf, of course- the glasses were the same, his slightly sheepish smile, the curiosity and ingenuity- but even so, now that Ratchet had noticed it, he couldn’t unsee the evidence of time passing. It was… startling.

He hadn’t given much thought to it, but his own kind showed very few signs of aging. Metal couldn’t sag or wrinkle like human skin. Struts didn’t bend or stoop. Plating could be polished and waxed to a youthful shine, no matter reality. It was only in the optics that one could see the signs of age, what they’d lived through. Ratchet had seen more than his fair share of spark-deep exhaustion in the optics of ancient mechs.

Thankfully, however, while Raf’s body getting older, his eyes still held that spark of life in them. He still shared his genuine excitement with, and inspired fascination in, those around him. It was some consolation that his mind was still the same as it had ever been, even with all the changes that had gone unnoticed.

But it didn’t stop there. The next time he saw Agent Fowler, he was startled to notice… were those… hairs that had turned grey? Could their hair change colors? He knew it could be dyed, but this wasn’t like anything he’d seen Miko do. A quick search revealed on the internet that, yes, their hair did turn grey… and it was a marker of age.

Yet again he was given a reminder of how the people that he had spent so much time with, had helped end his race's war, were… fading.

He was no stranger to loss; no Cybertronian was a stranger to its aching grip. Not in this world where it was the companion joined to their spark as they went into recharge and onlined their optics in the morning and walked through the rubble of their ruined cities; certianly not when he’d made it his bread and butter as a medic.

Even so… Cybertronians lived for millenia. They were given so much time. He hadn’t given it much thought, but suddenly it blazed through his mind: _how was it right that humans, who bonded so closely, and felt so intensely, and had such diversity and resilience and unpredictability, got less than a century to live?_

_Why did he have to again lose people that he had become so close to, and after such little time?_

Ratchet wasn’t prone to being philosophical or spiritual, regardless of his chosen profession, but it struck him that, just maybe, it was some form of poetic justice. Burning magnesium flares hot and bright, but only for a moment. Even raging infernos eventually use up all their fuel and burn themselves out.

And as he watched Raf, and took in his mannerisims and quirks, he had a vision of an old man, back bent and hands frail, hair and skin greying, body and mind slowing, practically rotting away…

 

Laughter broke through his thoughts, and he looked to see Raf laughing happily, while Jack grinned at his friend before joining him in laughter.

 

…an old man, maybe nearing the end his life, but not alone. Surrounded by friends and loved ones gripping his frail hands, crouched by his bony knees, reminding him of well-loved and time-worn memories, and opening a window for sunlight to stream in. Sunlight that illuminated his eyes, which lit up with the same spark they’d always had…

Ratchet almost shivered.

No, he was no stranger to death. But certianly he was more familiar with brutally shattered potential, last words whimpered as energon spilled over his servos, the unease in looking at the triage line and knowing that some he saw were dead mechs walking.

Knowing that humans lived short lives was much different than actually processing the death of those he had come to like and respect, but he was a medic, and passing was something he was intimately familiar with.

He could only hope for such a peaceful end to those he had come to care so much about… that it was a long time coming, and that their brilliant lives wouldn’t be extinguised before they got to experience their lives’ beauty, and could be ready when it was finally time.

Furthermore, it was high time Cybertronians were able to rejoin the Well like that- and jaded as he was, Ratchet smiled, small and bittersweet, towards the unseen stars. The thought of making that a reality was a beautiful one indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend said she woke up from a dream with that secondary title in her mind, and after that, well... 
> 
> at first Raf or Miko were going to be the focus and the setting would've been their funeral but eeeeh I couldn't, I just couldn't... character death angst is not my natural habitat. nooope. (also, can you tell who my favorite human is, between this and the last one? oops...)
> 
> I know Ratchet isn't particularly spiritual, but we live such short lives. I wanted to explore that, especially when the Bots grow so close to their companions. I'm pretty happy with this- satisfied enough to post it, though I don't doubt that a writer's work is never done and I could spend weeks with it in my notes, endlessly switching out synonyms and phrasing. Better to bite the bullet when I feel good about what I've produced, in my opinion. I hope this didn't come across as trying too hard to be emotional or philosophical.


	4. body language

** of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important **

_body language_

It all started when Elita-1 and Chromia visited the base for the first time, almost a vorn after the mechs had first made landfall- though it hardly seemed like so much time had passed. Optimus was at a hastily called emergency meeting with the human delegates, so it fell to Prowl to welcome the two and show them around.      
  
Sideswipe came careening down the hallway, shouting and waving his arms around and generally being _ridiculous_ , and Prowl was having none of it; especially with the femme commanders present.  
  
“Sideswipe!” He thundered, and he had mastered saying that simultaneously as a chastisement and as an order to immediately cease and desist, so Sideswipe wisely skidded to a halt in front of the irate mech. Prowl addressed him icily, arms crossed in front of him, the picture of annoyed. “What’s the meaning of your behavior?” He began, and Sideswipe tried to wiggle out of conversation to do whatever he’d been rushing off to- the femmes didn’t really pay attention to the details, just shared a confused glance. Soon, that was taken care of, and Prowl turned back to them with a gracious gesture for them to carry on.  
  
Next on their tour was the medbay. Ratchet wasn’t exactly happy with their infringement on his domain, but let it pass with a grumble. He wasn’t so docile a few breems later, however, when Wheeljack stumbled in, sporting a few heat-warped plates on his hand and wrist. Ratchet pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, loudly complaining about delicate wiring and complex actuators, but nevertheless efficiently gathered his materials and got to work. The engineer sheepishly apologized, audial fins flashing with embarrassment, and Prowl figured they didn’t have to stick around to watch the procedure or be subjected to Ratchet’s ranting.  
  
They bravely pushed on towards the rec room, the second to last item on their itinerary. When they got there, the atmosphere was fun and light, with Jazz playing some music over the speakers as those who were off duty chatted and refueled.  
  
“Nice music, mech,” Chromia greeted, an easy smile curling over her faceplates. Jazz waved and hopped over to return the greeting, striking a dramatic pose with his helm tilted up, visor off, and servo clasped over his chestplates.  
  
“Ah aim to please, ‘Mia. Good t’see ya ‘round!” Then he was off, attending to somebody else’s music request.  
  
Elita looked around. “Does this happen often?” She asked Prowl, who nodded with a small frown. “Good,” she grinned in reply, before snagging Chromia. “Let’s get some recharge. It’s been a long orn, and if this happens a lot, we’ll be here next time.” Chromia reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged away, and Prowl led them out of the rec room and showed them Ironhide and Optimus’ quarters, respectively.  
  
“If that’s all, then I’ll see you tomorrow. Good recharge cycle,” he finished, and at their acknowledgement, was off to give them peace and quiet.  
  
After waiting a moment to make sure he was gone, Chromia turned to Elita. “What on Primus’ Cybertron...?” She began.

 

* * *

  
  
It all started when Elita-1 and Chromia visited the base for the first time, almost a vorn after the mechs had first made landfall- though it hardly seemed like so much time had passed. Optimus was at a hastily called emergency meeting with the human delegates, so it fell to Prowl to welcome the two and show them around.      
  
They’d both been relegated with stories of the crimson frontliner’s pranks, so Sideswipe being up to something hadn’t been much of a surprise. But what did crossing your arms in front of your bumper even mean? Oh, sure, context said it was a gesture of annoyance, but- his doorwings hadn’t been hiked up, and his armor hadn’t even been ruffled! They’d also heard about the tactician’s stoic nature, of course, but there had certainly been enough other markers of his frustration...  
  
Then Ratchet. Elita had never seen someone pinch at their olfactory ridge before. It was another strand in this... web of mysteries. Doing that didn’t actually help with being tired or fed up, did it? (Chromia tried it experimentally. Nope. So _why_ ?)  
  
Even Jazz! What had that been all about? Why had he offlined his visor, and made that pose? Not to mention- well, okay, new dancing styles made sense. But they had a lot to learn.  
  
Oh, Primus. What had happened to their mechs? Were they going insane?  
  
Possible insanity or no, it had been a long, draining orn, so after commiserating the femmes retired to their mates’ chambers. Recharging alone wouldn’t be as comfortable, after getting used to sleeping together as a contingent- loneliness was not a femme’s friend- but Prowl had assured them that the meeting would be over soon. With that, the two slipped into fitful recharge, processors still whirring with the idea of what mysterious problem had befallen their friends.

And… well, let’s just say that Optimus was lucky that Elita was offline when he entered their quarters and ran his servos down his faceplate in exhaustion before falling into recharge beside her, else she might have been tempted to crash and force him to interrupt Ratchet’s recharge. That would not have been pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a Janet Lane quote as the secondary title, just by the way.
> 
> "but ANN the cybertronians MUST have some kind of body language that carries over to ours and wouldn't be so strange!!!"   
> yes, i'm well aware, and in AP Psych we've talked about how the different core emotions- and their expressions, like smiling- are global and cross cultural, but consider: different planet. different physiology. fanfic material needed. 
> 
> so I hope this was enjoyable to read haha, it was fun to write :) even if I don't do humor all that much so I may be a bit weak at it.


	5. Interlude

Hello! If you’re reading this, firstly, thank you. I just want to take two minutes and explain my lack of posting. It’s not that I’ve lost interest or inspiration- or even that life has gotten too busy. No, as opposed to any of those external or internal things... it’s really more feeling overwhelmed by the scope of this idea and under-qualified to explore it.

When I first started to write this, I wanted to explore the ‘bots and their companions- because they’re who I’m most familiar with- experiencing culture shock from each other’s way of life. From there, this idea evolved into bots becoming citizens of Earth, and learning about the human experience. I still think that’s an interesting, exciting, fascinating idea! But here’s the problem: **there’s not one single human experience.**

I’m only experiencing my own life, and I’ve grown up an affluent white girl in American culture- Texan culture, at that. Sure, I’ve travelled to other places and befriended people from all over the world, so I have some idea regarding how to approach the gap between my perspective and others’, but that’s no substitute for the knowledge a native has of their own culture and perspective. This idea- of the bots exploring the human experience- implies delving into so many things, and as much as I want to shift topics and write about the Hina Festival and the art of Frida Kahlo and Uttarayan, the kite festival and a dozen other things, I feel like I’m not able to do it justice.

I don’t believe that being who I am- female, white, American- means I should not write about other walks of life, counter to what a publisher may say, but I do know it means I have to be careful. And because I tend towards perfectionism, I get a little wrapped up in that ‘being careful’, which makes me hesitant to write anything for this at all. I’m just wary of screwing up, offending people, embarrassing myself, giving less than my all.... any/all of those.

Regardless... walk away from this knowing that if you read it all, I’m grateful and hopeful you understand and appreciate my thoughts. Please also walk away knowing that I am trying, and writing, and editing, and working, and getting there. This really is just an ‘interlude’, and especially after reading the stories featured in the International Women’s Day 2018 Google doodle, I’m more inspired than ever to explore what it means to live on Earth and interact with humanity from an outside perspective. So I hope you stick around, and invite you to maybe even share an idea or two with me! If you want to chat, or have an experience, perspective, or thought you want to share, I’d _love_ for you to reach out to me; my email is shown on [my profile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNightsong/profile). Once again, thanks for reading!

(And if I portray the Cybertronian culture as too ‘alien’, sorry, but it’s for a purpose :p )


End file.
